As Andy left the underground and made his way back toward his grandfather’s shop, the weight of the day pressed heavily on him. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the streets, and the bustling city was transitioning into a quieter, more dangerous version of itself as night fell. The bright lights of the markets and the flickering street lamps offered some sense of comfort, but it couldn’t mask the tension in his chest.

  He replayed the events of the day over and over in his mind. Who were those men? He thought, his steps quickening as he passed through the North District. The smuggler’s voice still echoed in his ears. Those men were rough, untrained—definitely not soldiers—but they carried weapons. Smugglers? Black market scavengers? The thought of mercenaries working for the rich, scavenging tech for profit sent a shiver down his spine. The men weren’t part of the military, but their brutal actions and their knowledge of the underground corridors pointed to something more sinister.

  Andy’s mind returned to the bloody scene, the way the body was dragged away, and the unsettling feeling of being observed.

  He passed the church, the flickering light of the Temple of Light casting long shadows on the street. The priests of light, in their flowing robes and pale masks, were still marching with their guards, their presence a stark contrast to the grime and danger that permeated the city’s lower districts. The smell of incense and the faint hum of their ceremonial chants clung to the air as they made their way past. Most people bowed or made the sign of the beacon, paying homage to the seven gods and the one veritable god, but Andy barely noticed them as he moved through the crowd.

  The North District—so pristine, so perfect, so wealthy—felt like a world away from the grime and violence he had just left behind. The buildings gleamed in the fading sunlight, and the sprawling estates of the city’s elite stood like imposing monoliths, starkly contrasting the run-down homes and crumbling buildings in the rest of the city.

  As Andy continued through the markets, he noticed the usual haggling and shouting over salvage, the clinking of coins, and the chatter of vendors trying to make a living. The vendors selling scraps of old tech, street food and bits of salvage from the wastelands seemed like an almost comforting normality compared to the danger he’d just faced. Maybe that’s what I need right now—some normality, he thought as he walked past familiar faces, heads down, lost in their daily grind.

  The streets felt quieter as he neared the old repair shop, the towering structures of the North District behind him and the grimy alleys ahead. He passed the worn doors of Café Rook where he had spent his morning and briefly wondered how Lena was doing, though he didn’t stop to check. His grandfather’s shop was just a few more blocks away.

  As he approached the door to the shop, Andy felt a sudden wave of exhaustion hit him. The adrenaline of the day, the close call in the underground, and the weight of the strange encounter with the men all combined to wear him down. But there was something else tugging at the back of his mind. The feeling that he hadn’t fully grasped the significance of what had happened today. There were too many unanswered questions, too many things left unknown. He knew the city had its secrets, but today felt different—darker, more dangerous.

  With a last glance at the city, Andy entered the shop, the comforting clang of the door’s bell ringing as he stepped inside. Wily wasn’t back yet. The place was quiet, save for the soft hum of machinery and the smell of oil and dust hanging in the air. Andy set his gear down and looked over at the workbench, the tools and spare parts scattered across it.

  For a moment, he thought about the things he’d uncovered today—the remnants of the old world buried deep in the underground, the strange men and the deadly things that lurked in the dark. But he was too tired to dwell on it now.

  He needed to rest, think things through, and get back to work tomorrow. The Echochron and his projects at the shop would have to wait.

  Andy awoke to the sound of sizzling from the small kitchen in the shop’s corner. The familiar smell of something cooking filled the air, and for a moment, it brought him back to a time when things had been simpler. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, stretching the tension from his limbs. The morning light was barely creeping through the shop’s dusty windows, and he could see Wily, his grandfather, bent over the stove, flipping something in a pan.

  "Morning, kid," Wily said with a grin, his voice warm and rough from years of use. "Made breakfast. Figured we’d celebrate the completion of the bio vat project and apologize for being gone all day. Hope you didn’t get too bored with me out running errands."

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Andy nodded sleepily, the pang of guilt gnawing at his stomach. He wanted to tell Wily the truth, to explain everything that had happened—about the men, the fight, the underground—but he swallowed the words. It was easier this way, right? He didn’t want Wily to worry.

  "Did anyone stop by while I was out?" Wily asked, his attention focused on the food, though his voice carried an edge of curiosity.

  Andy hesitated, the lie forming in his mind. "Nah, I was just working on getting some extra parts. Bartered with a few vendors over at the market. Took a little longer than expected, you know how it is."

  He hoped the lie sounded convincing enough, but deep down, he felt the weight of it. Wily always had a way of reading people, and Andy wasn’t sure if he’d bought the story.

  Wily chuckled softly as he plated the food, clearly not bothered by the delay. "Well, good work, kid. Additional parts are scarce in the market these days, especially with all the shortages. You’ve got a good eye for what’s needed, huh?"

  Andy nodded, still feeling the guilt. "Yeah, just... had to haggle a bit. But I think we’re good for a while."

  Wily smiled, his wrinkles deepening with the expression, and handed Andy a plate. "I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve got more talent than most people twice your age. You’re gonna make something great one day, Andy. I can feel it."

  The praise stung in a way that only Wily’s words could. It was both reassuring and unsettling, especially when Andy knew he wasn’t being entirely honest. He forced a smile, taking the plate and sitting down at the workbench, still feeling the aftereffects of the lie settling heavily on his chest.

  He picked at his food, thinking of the underground, of the dangers he’d faced, and of the things he was uncovering. But for now, he had to focus on the here and now. He couldn’t afford to let Wily suspect anything. Not yet, at least.

  "Thanks, Wily," Andy muttered, forcing himself to look up. "Means a lot."

  Wily gave him a knowing smile, as though he could sense something was on Andy’s mind, but he didn’t press. He simply returned to his cooking, humming a tune as he worked. The small, comforting sounds of the shop—its clinks and clatters, the steady hum of machines—felt like a small oasis in a city full of uncertainty.

  Andy and Wily sat down at the small table, the meal between them almost forgotten as the quiet hum of the shop filled the space. Wily had already dug in, his weathered hands working with a kind of practiced ease. However, Andy’s thoughts still lingered on the previous day’s events—the underground, the strange men, and the blood, distracting him. He forced himself to focus on the moment and picked at his food, doing his best to enjoy the rare peace.

  Wily set down his fork after a few bites, clearing his throat. His weathered face broke into a tired smile. “Got some news for you, kid,” he said, his voice raspy. “Mayor Voss is eager to see how the new bio vat design works. He’s requested a meeting today over in the agricultural district. Says he’s impressed with our work so far. Wants to see how the prototype is running in person, and of course, deliver our payment.”

  Andy nodded, trying to mask his excitement. The Mayor’s interest was a big deal, a sign that their work was gaining traction. If they could impress him, it could mean more projects, more opportunities for the shop.

  Before he could respond, Wily stood up abruptly, clutching at his chest with a sudden, harsh cough. Andy’s eyes flicked up immediately, alarm flashing through him. Wily’s face had gone pale, the color drained from his skin as his body wracked with the violent fit. For a moment, Andy froze, watching as his grandfather struggled to catch his breath. The coughs subsided after a few moments, but Wily looked worse than before, sweat dotting his forehead.

  “I’m fine,” Wily grumbled, his voice hoarse. “No big deal. Nothing to worry about.” He waved it off, but the tightness in his eyes told a different story. Andy didn’t buy it for a second.

  Wily took a slow breath and straightened himself, trying to shake off the exhaustion creeping in. “Listen, kid,” he said, his tone softening. “You’ve got that meeting with the Mayor today, so you better clean yourself up. You smell like you’ve been in the underground all day. Grease, dust, god knows what else. Get a damn shower, and don’t look like you just crawled out of a junk pile.”

  Andy blinked, startled out of his thoughts. He’d been so wrapped up in his own mind, he hadn’t noticed the smell of sweat, oil and the damp scent of the underground on himself. Hours of work had tousled and dirtied his hair; grime stained his clothes. It was hard to focus on anything else when his head was full of the dangerous, underground memories. But Wily was right—it was time to pull himself together.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll clean up,” Andy muttered, getting up from the table. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be ready for the meeting.”

  Wily gave a half-smile, his tired eyes crinkling with the effort. “Good. And don’t forget to be presentable. We may not always agree with the Mayor and his people, but they’re important. It’s a chance to show off our work. Don’t screw it up.”

  Andy nodded, trying to push aside his unease. This meeting was important, not just for the payment, but for what it meant for the shop. He couldn’t afford to let his nerves show, especially with Wily in such a state. But as he turned toward the back room to clean up, his mind drifted back to the underground, to the men he’d encountered, and to the things he still didn’t fully understand about the city—and about his own place in it.

  He’d have to deal with all that later. For now, he had a meeting to prepare for.